A Jedi Heart
by Qui's Padawan
Summary: [complete]ObiWan and QuiGon never made up after MelidaDaan. Seven years have passed since. At the moment, QuiGon is captured and imrpisoned and ObiWan is on his way to rescue him. But how much has ObiWan changed? AU, featuring Scoundrel!Obi. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon or anything recignizable here. You know the procedure :)

**A/N:** This is not my first fic, but it _is_ the first one set in the JA universe. I've written this instead of studying for the exams at the uni, so go figure :)

Obi-Wan moved the guard's limp body aside – his carefulness surprised even himself, but the fact was that he hadn't intended to hurt the man that badly – and than he sighed, rising his blaster again and scanning the corridor. The door to his left side was thick and _should_ be blown up in order to open them – only, Obi-Wan didn't know how big the cell on the other side of the door was. Not very big as cells go, in all probability. He didn't want something to happen to the Jedi inside the cell in the wretched explosion – well, nothing more than what had _already _happened to him. Vaguely, he wondered in which state he would find Qui-Gon Jinn, but pushed the thought aside. That, at least, he was practiced at.

Although he was sure he hadn't broken any ribs in the fall, his whole left side still hurt. He reached out to the Force (he could still remember the days when it was easy), steadied himself, accepted the pain. The skill was, in any case, useful. Yet, he wasn't sure he would be able to carry Qui-Gon, if the Jedi wasn't able of walking himself. He shrugged, and cringed in pain.

On the wall there was a communication button – the one the guards used when contacting the prisoner without having to open the door, obviously. He pressed it.

"Stand back," he said. "As far from the door as you can. I repeat: stand back. I'm blasting the door. Do you copy?"

He waited a moment, but no response came. Was the Jedi conscious? Was this the right cell? The plan of the dungeons was still clear in his mind. It had to be the cell.

Then he thought he felt rather than heard a couple of steps retreating from the door.

"Crouch down, cover your head with your hands. Cover your eyes. I'm blasting the door. I repeat: I'm blasting the door."

The sentences were formulaic to him, so many times had he uttered them – ant it brought him some comfort, although this was by no means a routine action. He installed the smallest mine he had on his belt, stepped aside, and activated it. The blast echoed through the deserted corridors, but Obi-Wan's ear-protectors did their job well.

He forced himself to wait until the smoke cleared up at least a bit, then stepped back to the cleared entrance. Smoke still hung heavily in the air, but over the rubble and through the smoke he was able to see the interior of the cell: narrow durasteel walls, a shit-pit, a poor excuse for a bad – and, a nanosecond later, a silhouette crouching behind the bed. Smart, he thought rationally, and tried to ignore the emotions that screamed at him.

The voice that came through the comm sounded mechanic, automatic, as they always did – but this time Qui-Gon was able to sense some urgency coming through. At first he didn't respond, but the voice was brusque, business-like, and it didn't have the Atarian tilt characteristical for the guards. He crossed the floor in three long steps, crouched behind the bed, and reached for the Force. Whatever happened, he would be ready.

The explosion was loud, but the thin prison blanket protected his ears somewhat. The smoke started clearing almost at once – probably because of the draft in the corridor outside, he realized. His muscles were tense, ready to spring at the intruder, but his instincts stopped him. For whatever reason. But he trusted his instincts; without them he would have been dead long ago.

A tall, wiry figure came into his view, and he felt a flicker of the Force, as if the figure tried to reach for it, but it escaped them.

"Are you all right?" the man asked.

The coldness in his voice didn't speak of concern.

"Yes."

"Can you stand? Walk?"

It sounded more like the man was checking if the computer was operational than checking up on a living being.

Qui-Gon nodded, and the figure extended a hand in his direction. As if to help him up? The light was feeble, and some smoke still hovered in the air. He couldn't see the man's face, although something in his movements seemed hauntingly familiar. As did the voice. That voice… But it wasn't, of course, possible. He dismissed the thought.

Ignoring the extended hand, Qui-Gon rose to his feet. They were shaky from the hunger and exhaustion, but he was steady. The Force helped him be steady.

"Are you going to get out or do I have to carry you?"

Dry and brusque. The man had a blaster. For now, Qui-Gon decided to comply.

The light in the corridor was better, and once the man turned to face him, Qui-Gon could see a tired, angular face smudged with soot and dirt, framed with reddish hair. He could have passed that face on the street. But the eyes that looked at him – cool, measuring eyes now – those were the eyes from his past. He would know them anywhere. A sense of dread threatened to fill him, and he felt the ground shift under his feet.

"Obi-Wan?" he croaked. Those were the first words he had uttered in weeks, and his voice sounded alien even to him.

The man nodded, once.

"Have you… come to kill me?"

The force around the boy – no, the _man_ – fluttered, but Qui-Gon didn't sense any darkness. Yet, it wasn't in balance. By no means was it in balance. No muscle on Obi-Wan's face moved, though.

"Cut out the crap," he said harshly. "We have precious little time."

Qui-Gon could only stare at him. One thing was sure: this man here wasn't the boy he had known long ago.

"But…"

"No time for that," Obi-Wan interrupted. "The way is clear, but won't stay so for long. Go."

He turned on his heel and strode down the corridor, the Force still swirling around him. _Is it possible he has come to rescue me? But he wouldn't be acting this way, surely…_

Some yards down the corridor, Obi-Wan turned back to look at him.

"Can you walk or not?"

Qui-Gon nodded and hurried to catch up with him. It seemed like the only alternative at the moment. His knees were shaky, and he had to summon all the physical strength he had.

Obi Wan bent down in passing and picked up a blaster from a fallen guard. Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon noticed as he went, was limping somewhat. Not that it was particularly relevant at the moment. Qui-Gon held on to the Force, hoping for guidance, and – followed.

"The emergency exit is not far, but we have to reach it quickly," Obi-Wan spoke brusquely as they walked. "I spiked the alarm system, but it's the only a question of time before they notice. My ship is waiting at the exit. I hope nothing else is. It should be well-concealed. If everything goes according to the plan, we go out, take off, and that's it. If it doesn't – can you use the blaster?"

Of course he could. Every Jedi could. Obi-Wan should know that. _But, of course, he's asking if I'm in any condition to shoot._ His mind wasn't working as it should, Qui-Gon noticed. The hunger, the strain…

Not waiting for the answer, Obi-Wan shoved his spare blaster in Qui-Gon's general direction. He never stopped to look at the Jedi.

"You are going to entrust me with a blaster?"

"What does it look like?" Obi-Wan retorted dryly.

Qui-Gon felt very much like a prisoner, and yet one didn't usually treat prisoners this way. One didn't offer them weapons, for one. Although…_ He may yet need help if we run into fighting… I may not know him any more, but he knows** me**_ _ well enough. He knows I won't shoot him in the back._

An explosion rang somewhere above them, but it didn't seem to startle Obi-Wan. Nothing at all seemed to startle the man.

"They've broken the door on the ground level," he said. There was urgency in his voice, but no trail of fear or indecision. "I didn't have the time to destroy the turbo-lift. They'll be down any minute. We'll have to run."

He paused for a moment then.

"You first."

_Of course, so that they shoot me first if we run into them_, Qui-Gon thought. Other things may not have been clear, but this certainly was.

"_Now_, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon ran. Minutes later, he realized the heavy footsteps of the soldiers were coming from _behind_ them, not the front. Something inside him wrenched, but he let the Force calm him down. And he ran. It was the only thing he could do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Same as always: George owns it, not I. I wish it were me :)

Obi-Wan scrambled into the ship after the Jedi, as the blaster shots rang around his head. Years ago, he would have wished for his lightsaber to deflect them. That was practically ancient history, though. He probably wouldn't even know how to use the thing any more. No, he had learned to handle life without the Jedi weapon, just like the most of the Galaxy did.

He saw his former Master lying on the floor, panting – this was the first time he had seen Qui-Gon _pant_, he thought briefly, but pushed the thought aside. This wasn't the time. There _wasn't_ any time.

_If I stop to think, I'm lost_

The ship was small, barely large enough to accommodate two people. Therefore - it was perfect for maneuvers he'd probably need. He stepped over Qui-Gon, averting his eyes, and entered the cockpit.

No thoughts. No emotions. He embraced the Force (thankfully, it was there this time) and found the semblance of calm as his hands flew over the commands. The ship rose and Obi-Wan steered it through the cannon fire and upwards, almost forgetting where he was, and with whom. _This_ was familiar ground. _This_ he knew how to handle.

"Hold on," he said, although he wasn't at all sure Qui-Gon could hear him. "Getting into hyperspace." It surprised him how cold and factual his voice sounded.

After programming the course and rechecking the system, he finally took a deep breath. He didn't have to turn around to know Qui-Gon was standing in the entrance to the cockpit, watching him. He turned, though.

The Jedi looked old – much older than his…what, forty years? Meager, starved, barely able to stand, probably beaten, with hollow eyes and… _No!_ No emotions, not yet.

"You are about to collapse," Obi-Wan stated, and stood up decisively. He stepped on his left foot and cringed. It seemed he was worse contused than he had thought. That jump probably hadn't been a good idea, with his insecure connection to the Force and all… It had been the only possibility, though. And his own wounds could wait.

Qui-Gon just watched him, though, his expression blank. _One would thought he would be… well, not glad to** see** me, perhaps, but… At least… grateful?_

There wasn't time for petty thoughts, though. He swooped the Jedi in his arms just before the man actually collapsed, cringed again (_That thrice-damned left shoulder!)_, and carried him to the cabin.

"Obi-Wan…" the Jedi began, as Obi-Wan lowered him onto the narrow bed.

"Later," Obi-Wan cut him off. "You need medical care."

He opened the compartment, took out a med kit, and took off Qui-Gon's battered clothing, surprised to realize he was talking all the time.

"I have some bacta here," he was saying. "I'm not very skilled at this – it's always someone else that does the medicking – but I have the basic training. But you know that, of course. You trained me yourself. Well, than you know I've never been any good at this. Bacta should do its job, though, bacta always… _Oh, shit!_"

Qui-Gon's body was completely covered in bruises and scars – some older, some quite new, but Obi-Wan suppressed his horror and went about his work efficiently – as much as he was able. The older man was so meager, so _spent_. And so may _burns_.

"Oh, _shit!_" he repeated, because he didn't know what else to say. Better than to babble endlessly, anyway. The weariness was getting the better of him. How much had he slept during the last month? He couldn't remember. It wasn't important, though.

…_And what of internal wounds?_

He prodded at Qui-Gon's ribcage, and the Jedi grunted.

"I wish I had paid better attention in anatomy classes," Obi-Wan muttered, wondering what to do, and then slapped himself on the forehead. Of course. He reached for the Force, failed, reached again. It was so _difficult_. He had to close his eyes, relax, let go… Then he finally felt it and successfully scanned Qui-Gon's living Force.

Qui-Gon was so used to pain by now that he barely paid attention to his body. He watched Obi-Wan, the man his former Padawan had become. Tall and strong and efficient… But he had always been efficient, hadn't he? His eyes were hard, decisive, not letting anything out. Qui-Gon was surprised at the gentleness and carefulness of his hands that didn't mach his voice at all.

"No internal bleeding I can detect," Obi-Wan stated. He was silent as he applied the bacta and the bandages and Qui-Gon relaxed, let go, and fell in some kind of haze, only half aware of Obi-Wan's actions.

"Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon, open your eyes, damn it."

Qui-Gon made himself do it.

"You'll eat now."

The Jedi just shook his head. The thought of food made his stomach turn.

"Don't be difficult. I'm not going to sit here and watch you die of starvation after all I've been through." His voice was hard again, yet strained somehow, Qui-Gon noticed vaguely. "I'm not going to poison you or anything, you know."

"No," Qui-Gon managed, as Obi-Wan raised him into a half-sitting position. He had meant to say _No, I don't think you are going to poison me_, but it didn't come out right, obviously.

"Oh, you _are_ going to eat, you know." Irritation rang clear in Obi-Wan's voice now, and Qui-Gon shrugged mentally as the man fed him some food he didn't even recognize.

"You've been bloody starved. Some light food it is, then. In small doses. Fine. You sleep now. I'll wake you up in a couple of hours for the next meal. No, don't shake your head, I'll shove it down your throat if I have to…"

The next twelve hours were a hell for Obi-Wan – a hazy, unclear hell, but a hell nevertheless. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he made himself steer the ship, feed Qui-Gon on regular basis (which wasn't an easy task), study the maps… Finally he landed on a small, rural planet – the thing closest to a decent civilization he could find at such a short notice - got out, somehow located a village, a healer, led her to the ship… and collapsed himself, not to wake for hours.

He opened his eyes, reached for his blaster, then remembered where he was. Where he supposed he was. The ceiling was made out of wood, as, he noticed, were the walls. A _very_ rural planet, it seemed. He contracted his muscles, decided his left side still hurt, but not too badly, and got up. Qui-Gon lay in a bed on the opposite side of the room, obviously asleep. Breathing evenly. Fine.

"I heard some noise. I hadn't expected you up so soon."

The woman that stood in the doorway, and was now talking to him, was short and stocky, with wrinkled brown-gray skin and brown eyes. She inclined her head and watched him.

"You seem alive and well, but you need more rest."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she never gave him the chance.

"I suppose, however, that you are going to refuse to go back to bed, so we'd better move on. After you've eaten – some _real_ food, mind, not that space-travel muck – I want your story. Nice, exciting story. I haven't heard a good one in some time. But first – food!"

Obi-Wan felt a slow grin spreading over his face, and he seemed unable to stop it. The care, the warmness, the motherly cackling – it somehow felt like… home. _And what home would that be?_ He suppressed the bitter thought and gave himself into the care of the healer. And he ate and ate and ate…

Her name was Roan, he found out as he ate, and the planet was called Brilki (he remembered he'd heard a mention of it somewhere, but nothing else). No, not the whole planet was rural, but this part certainly was; Roan didn't want any of that big-city muck in her neighborhood; and yes, this was definitely the best place to land, and Roan was the best person to turn to. Miraculously she had been at home, she usually isn't – too much work, you know…

_Miraculously_, he thought. _Or because of the Force. Maybe it hadn't abandoned me, after all._

Qui-Gon was horribly exhausted, starved, and very very weak, but he was going to live all right, he found out. He was much stronger than it seemed. Much, much stronger…

"Whatever happened to you and your friend, anyway?" she asked, as Obi-Wan stuffed the last piece of bread and honey (cut into soldiers, just as he liked!) into his mouth. He hadn't felt this alive in…years. Her wording made him flinch, though. She noticed, of course.

"If he is not your friend, what is he?" Roan asked sharply. "I've always flattered myself I could read people quite well, and I'd say you are not capable of doing _that_ to anyone."

Obi-Wan shot her an outraged look, and she smiled. "Of course not, young man. You wouldn't rush in like that and drag me to him, had it been you who did it, would you now? But what _is_ he if he is not your friend?

"An… acquaintance?" Obi-Wan tried. He felt as if he were 9 again. The worst thing was, it wasn't a bad feeling at all.

Roan just rolled her eyes. "As you wish. The story, now. Tell it all, with all the gory details. C'mon, spit-spot!"

So he did, although he left out as much of the gritty details as he could. He didn't want to explain that Qui-Gon was a Jedi, or in what way the two of them were related at all, or anything about his past; but he filled her in about hacking into databases, downloading area maps, spiking alarm systems, blowing up the doors… It would have sounded adventury and exciting, had it not happened to _him_. She stared at him with wide eyes, flinched in the right places, and oohed and aahed when needed. He left off with the landing and coming to her house.

"And… the rest you know, of course," he finished.

"Of course."

She smiled knowingly, then. "I won't ask about the parts you left out. I won't press you. It is, after all, your business… I can see you are a fine young man, and I trust you are telling the truth."

He smiled. Again. He couldn't stop smiling. It was such an immense relief to be at a place like this. After… after _all_ that had happened. What would happen next? He had no idea. He couldn't think about it either.

There seemed to be an awful lot of things he didn't dare think about, lately.

"I wonder about one thing only," Roan said and arched an eyebrow. "To go through all that mucking hell for an… 'acquaintance'?"

Obi-Wan close his eyes briefly. He couldn't snap at her. She had helped him so much. Besides, he felt it wasn't particularly advisable to snap at someone like Roan.

"I suppose…" he began, aware how strained his voice had suddenly become. "I suppose we _used_ to be friends… long time ago."

Then he jumped up and offered to wash the dishes or clean the house or help her tend the animals or whatever she needed. All at once if possible. It was… well, it was a better alternative than talking. _Or_ thinking.

**A/N:** I get the feeling that the sentence 'If I look back, I'm lost' is from _somewhere_ – somewhere very well-known, I'm afraid. Can't remember from where, though :)

So? What did you think? I'm not a native English speaker, so I appologize for any possible mistakes in my grammar/vocabulary/syntax/whatever :)

**The next chapter…** In which the two finally talk. Or try to :)

Expect it shortly :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: No, not mine :)

**A/N:** Thank you Knight Queen, Liz-chanloverofAnime and Nat2 :)

Almost two weeks had passed since the landing, but Qui-Gon couldn't know that, of course.

The first thing he noticed about his new surroundings when he woke up was that they resembled his cell as little as it was at all possible. He took it all in – the fading light outside the window, the cool spring air (oh, the air!), the smell of wood, and boiling spinach, and goats; the noises of someone probably fussing over the cooking food and a soft flow of very, very creative (if ugly) expletives from the next room. He caught 'sith-fucked spinach' among other things. He also caught Obi-Wan's voice. So – it was true?

Memories started coming back to him – fragments and images; the explosion, the man that looked like – that _was_ – his former Padawan; the harshness of his voice; the running, the shooting; the ship; than it became more fogged, more splintered, clothed in a haze; Obi-Wan forcibly feeding him; images of an unknown woman – also feeding him; dreams mixed with reality. He needed to clear his mind, so he reached for the Force.

Almost instantly a shadow fell over him, and a tall figure appeared in the doorway. Qui-Gon more sensed him than saw his face: Obi-Wan, of course. So… tall? But of course, he must be twenty by now… The figure just stood there, hesitant, silent. The Force around him was disturbed by the emotions he tried to keep inside. _What emotions?_

"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan's voice was strained.

The vortex of emotions threatened to drawn Qui-Gon, the foremost of which was… fear? Fear of the unknown? Or something else? He reached for the quiet of the Force.

"You are awake," Obi-Wan said slowly, than made a hesitant step to enter the room. He had to bow his head to pass through the doorway, Qui-Gon noticed. "I… How are you feeling now?"

"Not bad." Qui-Gon said quietly. Quiet was the best policy, if you are insecure, he had always thought. Emotions would be of no use here. He had to _think_.

He sensed no threat, though. No reason to fear. And yet…

"Do you… do you want to eat now?"

"Obi-Wan. Come closer."

Obi-Wan did. A whole hesitant step.

"Roan – the healer – said you should eat if you wake up while she's out, you know. We've… _she_'s been feeding you while you were feverish, which you probably don't remember, and she said you need to eat a lot in order to regain your strength. Sounds quite logical to me, by the way."

Qui-Gon searched for his voice.

"I'll bring you the food, I guess." Obi-Wan said.

"Wait."

"What?"

"I… want to take a look at you."

Something in Obi-Wan's stance changed, and from the boy he went back to the _man_. His voice was bitter.

"Don't bother. You are not going to _die_ or anything, so don't give me that…" he trailed of.

"Pathetic crap?" Qui-Gon inclined his head.

"Yeah."

He did step closer, though.

The light from the window fell on Obi-Wan's face now – he looked younger – well, younger than in the dungeons, anyway. He was clean-shaven and newly washed and… not all that changed, all in all. He looked twenty, as he should. As if the hardened man in the dungeons had never really existed; it all seemed so unreal. And yet – the bony face, the firmly set jaw, calm eyes that never betrayed anything… The same man it was, all right.

"Sorry about that, I guess," Obi-Wan said after a moment. "I shouldn't be upsetting you. I'm not… quite in control of myself at the moment, I suppose."

"You look _very_ much in control of yourself," Qui-Gon said softly.

This was… a stranger, Qui-Gon thought. He couldn't know what to expect from him. The force around him shimmered and changed in the matter of seconds.

The silence was long. Neither knew what to say.

"You saved my life," Qui-Gon said finally, as if trying to clear it all up for himself.

"Oh, no you _don't_." Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "Not_ now_. Just… eat and sleep and…" He relaxed a bit, obviously _made _himself relax. "There will be time." he said softly. "Plenty of time."

Some internal battle was going on, Qui-Gon could see that. So much pent-up emotion that it could blow up a space shuttle. Obi-Wan had always been unpredictable. And now… what was he now?

Obi-Wan seemed to guess his thoughts, at least partly.

"Don't look at me that way. Just… don't." He paused. "You have no reason to be afraid of me. Or anything."

"I am not afraid, Obi-Wan."

"Wary, then."

"_That_ I always am."

Obi-Wan's lips thinned.

"Of course you are. Look, I'll bring you that thrice-damned food and…" He wrinkled his nose. "_Shit!_" he muttered and rushed off to the kitchen.

He reappeared in the course of five minutes with a tray. The thing on the plate was green and smelled mostly of burned up spinach.

"I can't cook," Obi-Wan said miserably and suddenly looked very much like a young boy again. Qui-Gon felt oddly touched as Obi-Wan helped him sit up and lay the tray before him. "I scraped some spinach from the top, but it still _smells_. You can always eat the fruit, I suppose. I was unable to ruin _that_."

Qui-Gon didn't quite know what to say, so he smiled, and took a bite.

"How does it taste?"

"Well… burnt?" Qui-Gon gave him another smile. "Oh, Obi-Wan…"

"Look… just don't all right?"

"Am I not allowed to thank you?"

"No."

"For the food?"

"_Stop_ it."

"I'll just eat then, I suppose."

"Do. Um… There is no meat for now. Roan says you should rebuild on vegetables and such. Vitamin C and all that. I don't know."

They sat in silence, for a time. Obi-Wan took away the tray after Qui-Gon had finished, cleaned up, and came back hesitantly.

"Look," he said. "I shouldn't have shouted at you."

"You didn't shout."

"Whatever you choose to call it, then."

"It's all right, Obi-Wan."

"It's not. You should sleep now."

"I don't think I can."

"What… What do you want me to do?"

Qui-Gon paused. He didn't know. There were so many things unsaid, and he didn't feel up to any of it now. He couldn't know how Obi-Wan – this new Obi-Wan – would react to anything he said. And yet, he wanted to hear him talk. It was… comforting, he supposed. But he needed to find a neutral topic. A _very_ neutral topic.

"Why don't you just come here and tell me about… Roan?"

- - - - - - - -

Obi-Wan sat on the floor and watched his former Master sleep. Roan was still out – she had had an emergency call and left it all to Obi-Wan – taking care of the house, watching over Qui-Gon, feeding the goats and the pigs, cooking the damn _spinach_ – everything. He wasn't quite sure how she could entrust all she had to an unknown man, but she was an unusual woman in more ways than this.

So – she was out. Won't be back in a couple of days, probably. Qui-Gon had chosen just that time to wake up for good after two weeks, of course. It would have been so much less _awkward_, had Roan been there.

_Qui-Gon_. Obi-Wan was _glad_ he was finally awake, of course. He was glad the fever was down and the man was getting well. But – he just wanted to leave it at that. He had rescued him because… he couldn't have left the man in the bloody prison, obviously, to starve and be tortured and whatnot. He wanted nothing more with him, though. Just to know he was well. That was all.

Why did Qui-Gon had to look at him _so_? He had detected fear there. _Fear_. _Of **me**_. '_Have you come to kill me?' ' You are entrusting me with a blaster?'_

_Don't be unfair_, he told himself. _He'd been imprisoned for Force knows how long. Beaten. Everything. Of course he was afraid!_

_But… of **me**?_

Obi-Wan didn't have much illusions about himself. He was prone to anger. He was impulsive. He was rash. He was also hardened, now, hardened by all the things he had gone through and all the things he had seen since he had left the Jedi. On Melida/Daan alone there had been enough death and tragedy for three lifetimes, and he had handled it all, and alone, at the age of thirteen. And Melida/Daan had been just a _beginning_.

But he was sure about one thing, at least: whatever else happened to him, he had stayed a decent person. Not open, perhaps, not overly sensitive, not always law-abiding either – but decent. That much he could say for sure.

So why did Qui-Gon look at him _that_ way?

_Force only knows how **I** look at **him**_…

Obi-Wan had thought he had faced his past. He had thought he was through with it. The whole Jedi-temple-Qui-Gon-Master-Padawan-all-that-crap business. So why couldn't he face Qui-Gon like an acquaintance from long ago, a one he was perhaps fond of, in a way, but nothing more? Why couldn't he face him calmly, kindly, maturely. He had dealt with various scum of the Galaxy. One would have thought he could deal with a weakened Jedi Master.

Yet, when he tried to retain his calm, he only lost control. When he tried to be polite but detached, he came out as cold and harsh. He was aware of it, to be sure. He just couldn't do anything about it.

And he had _so_ thought it in the past.

He straightened his back, sitting in the old meditation position, and tried to find his calm. He wasn't a boy of thirteen any more. He was Ben Kenobi. He couldn't _cook_, that was true, but he could slice into most of the computers he ran into; he could pilot better than most; and he could deal with explosives calmly, efficiently, and expertly. God damn it, after all the ugly things he had survived, he had rebuilt his life. He had made himself a position in the Intergalactic Miners' Rescue Team. He had his own rescue squadron now, hard and able men he had trained and retrained himself. All the things he had learned, he now used to get people out of danger. He was able, independent, strong-minded.

So, _why_ in seven hells did that same Ben Kenobi flinch at every word of his former Master? Why did he search desperately for Qui-Gon's _reaction_ to anything he said?

- - - - - - - - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine :)

**A/N:** Big thanks to everyone who reviewed :) You know you keep me going.

Laura – He's tough, but… Not _all that_ tough. Well, you'll see. He still swears, though ;)

I luv ewansmile – Here's some background for you ;)

Obi-Wan woke to find Qui-Gon's bed empty and a wave of panic rushed through him. He got it under control in a matter of seconds, of course. Noises from the kitchen. Of course. He entered, only to see a pale Qui-Gon determinately going about fixing his breakfast.

"I don't think you are strong enough to do that," Obi-Wan said tentatively, rubbing his eyes. He felt much more at peace this morning.

"I can manage."

"I could do that for you, you know."

"Obi-Wan," the Jedi said steadily. "I've been taking care of myself for long enough. I'm perfectly capable to decide if I have enough energy to prepare a breakfast."

"If Roan were here, you would be tucked up in bed with no thoughts of getting up, that much I can tell you." He gave him a hesitant smile.

"I'll be all right. Besides, I'd rather not subject myself to your cooking if I don't have too."

Obi-Wan's jaw hardened almost against his will, and he felt a stab of completely unwanted resentment. He raised his eyes to see Qui-Gon's smile rapidly fade.

"I was trying to make a joke, Obi-Wan," he said a tad sadly. "I didn't mean to imply…"

"No," Obi-Wan said miserably. "I'm sorry. I'm being edgy, I'm sorry."

"No. If I'm not allowed to say 'thank you', you are not allowed to apologize," Qui-Gon tried another small smile. "Fair enough?"

Obi-Wan nodded, relaxed. He had to try and act as a normal human being. _For once_.

He noticed Qui-Gon was opening different kitchen boxes, searching for something, and he suddenly felt a more genuine smile come to his lips.

"No caffeine products for convalescents, I'm afraid," Obi-Wan stated. "None for me, either. I think she hid the coffee somewhere."

"Typical. Oh, well. Let's go out and have the breakfast in the sun, what do you say?"

Longing in Qui-Gon's voice stirred something in him and he felt a surge of pity and anger: _For how long did they hold him in those sith-damned dungeons?_ He tried and released the emotion, though.

"Fine," he said. "I just have to feed the animals first. You sit and eat." He paused. "You know, it's good to see you up and about, finally." It was difficult to say those words, although it shouldn't have been.

Qui-Gon nodded and averted his eyes. Obi-Wan hung his head. Was nothing he said at least _acceptable_?

- - - - - - -- - - - - -

Feeding the animals and cleaning up after them made him at peace, somehow. Any work did, basically. He turned to look at Qui-Gon, who was sitting on the low bench, leaning against the house wall, watching him, as he ate. The Jedi was still very pale, obviously, and looked disturbingly tired after the exertion of making the breakfast, but he looked much better than the last night. He seemed content, in a way.

"You're doing nicely with the goats, Obi-Wan," he smiled.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. I would have made a fine career in the Agricultural Corpse, after all."

They shared an amused look for an instant, but then both looked away. It was too bloody awkward.

"I quite enjoy this kind of work these days," Obi-Wan said, not looking at the Jedi, but not wanting to lose the little he had gained (then reprimanded himself for thinking in those terms). "Housework. Simple stuff. Takes my mind off things."

"But not cooking?"

This time Obi-Wan knew it was gentle teasing, not some vicious offence of his… cooking abilities. He rolled his eyes at himself and wondered how he could have misinterpreted it so, the first time. It was very obvious that Qui-Gon too tried to uphold a normal conversation. That also tended to include some _humour_, among normal people. _I'm such a difficult person, sometimes_, Obi-Wan thought.

"No." He flashed a brief grin in the Jedi Master's direction. "Not the cooking, _please_. I can disarm a mine field, or pilot through an asteroid belt if I absolutely have to. But I seem completely unable to make a pair of edible scrambled eggs; let alone _spinach_."

"You've already changed that water," Qui-Gon said softly. Obi-Wan looked at the bucket in his hands.

"So I have… Um. I guess I'm a bit distracted."

"Why don't you come here and sit with me for a bit?"

"I guess that's just what I was trying to avoid all morning," Obi-Wan said apologetically. Than slapped himself mentally. Honesty was one thing; complete lack of tact totally another.

"You don't have to. I had just thought…"

He couldn't stand to see the disappointed look in his former Master's eyes. He never could.

"No!" Obi-Wan said forcefully. "You don't understand!"

"I think I do."

"You _don't_! It's…"

"…awkward, yes. You'd rather be at any other place than here, just to avoid the confrontation. It's all right, Obi-Wan."

"Why do you have to be so bloody _understanding_?"

Qui-Gon looked at him sadly.

"No!" Obi-Wan said, as the Jedi averted his eyes. "It's not what I meant to say at all!"

"I think it is, though."

"Well… perhaps it is. But I also mean to say a hundred other things! And nothing I say seems to come out right. It's just so… difficult. I wish you would… _shout_ at me or something!"

"I couldn't possibly do that, Obi-Wan."

"What, because I'm bigger and stronger than you at the moment, and have a blaster!" He was angry. Oh how he was angry! But the rational part of him knew he was just concealing other feelings that way.

"No. I do not think you would hurt me, Obi-Wan."

"I wouldn't. _Ever!_"

Qui-Gon gave him a strange look, but Obi-Wan was unable to stop himself.

"How _could_ you have thought I had come to _kill _you, back at the dungeons? _I_?"

"Oh, Obi-Wan…"

"Don't _oh_ at me, I don't think I can stomach it. Whatever I am now, I'm not…" Than he stopped himself, slammed his walls shut, just fell silent. He was going to say _I'm not Xanatos!_, but that would just be so… _unfair_. Petty. Such a low blow.

Qui-Gon had read the thought, though.

"No, Obi-Wan, you are not him. I know that."

Obi-Wan looked aside. His policy had always been to look people square in the eyes and accept the consequences of his own actions – or words. But now he simply – couldn't. He reached out to the Force, desperately – and there it was. Fluttering, elusive, but he was able to catch it, surround himself in it, release his emotions – at least his most apparent emotions – into it. He sat silent for a time, and his former Master didn't say anything either.

Than he summoned the courage and raised his eyes to meet Qui-Gon's gaze. The older man's eyes were glittering with… tears?

"Qui-Gon," he said softly. "I'm being horribly and unforgivably unfair to you. _And_ cruel. I… I don't _want_ to, obviously, it just… I just _do_ it. It's as if… I don't know what to do with the… emotions. All of them. Different emotions. Positive, negative… some in the middle. All mixed up. And… when I don't know what to do with them, they tend to turn into anger. I thought… I had the control over it. I usually do. Now… I don't. Too much for me, I guess. I don't know how to put it…"

"I understand."

"Yes. I guess. But… Oh, I shouldn't be putting you through this just _now_, I'm such an _oaf_ to…"

"Please, Obi-Wan, don't act as if I'm made of glass."

"No. I don't think you are. I _know_ you're not. It's just…I should just stop. But I can't leave off now, can I? It would only make it worse."

"Indeed it would."

"I… " Obi-Wan sat down on the ground, facing the Jedi-master, and hugged his knees. "I don't know what to say now. Besides that I'm sorry…"

"I've forbidden you to do that."

"Yes, I know there are no excuses for what I've said, Qui-Gon. Or done."

He was now looking at the ground, fighting his own tears. He had to control it.

He felt a hand on his chin, as Qui-Gon lifted his head up gently.

"Things you've done? Like, saved me from the living hell, Obi-Wan?"

"That's a… well, it's a…_normal_ thing…"

"Look at me, Obi-Wan. That's right. I do not know you. I did when you were thirteen, and we parted the way we parted. Now you are twenty. I do not know you any more. So – _why_ did you do it?"

"Took you out?"

"Yes."

Obi-Wan gave him a twisted smile through the tears.

"Well, I didn't want you to die, obviously."

"Doesn't seem that obvious to me, I must admit."

Oh, how that stung!

"No!" Qui-Gon said quickly, seeing the hurt in his eyes. "I didn't mean that you'd want me dead. It's just… I'd like to hear the story, Obi-Wan. I'd like to know your motives."

"What's there to know?"

"Could you tell me? Please?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Right. Well, I heard you were captured at that Force-forsaken Atarian planet, and decided to definitely go and find you, so I found out everything I could about…"

"No."

"No?"

"No. I want the _story_. _Your_ story. Start at the beginning. Go slowly. It's the best way to talk this over, I think." Qui-Gon's eyes were very still, very unreadable – he was probably striving to keep them that way, Obi-Wan thought – but now a trickle of gentleness entered them. "Report, Obi-Wan," the Jedi Master said softly.

So – Obi Wan prepared to.

He closed his eyes yet again, felt the Force pulsing, breathed.

"You still use the Force."

It wasn't a question, and Obi-Wan felt a pang of guilt. He had told himself time and again that it would be stupid to _reject_ the Force, cut himself from it… Like cutting off his own arm. Yet, he felt guilty.

His first impulse was to shot his former Master a defiant look, but he stopped himself. He won't start yet another pointless and meaningless fight.

"Yes," he said, looking down again. "To calm myself down. To find guidance, if I can. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not, but… When I can't find it, I feel lost. What was I supposed to do? You can't just… cut yourself from it. Can you?"

"No," the Jedi Master said quietly. "I suppose you can't."

"I don't use it to affect people. Or things. You know. Sometimes I need to lift something off someone, or to jump, and when there isn't time for anything else… I got to use it sometimes on the missions. I…"

"You do not need to defend yourself from me. I never said I disapproved."

"But you do, don't you?"

The Jedi studied him, and Obi-Wan studied him back.

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon said finally. "What kind of missions?"

"Rescue missions. I work for Intergalactic Miners' Rescue Squad." he let a tingle of pride trickle into his voice. If there was one thing in the world he was sure about at this moment, it was his job.

Relief on Qui-Gon's face was obvious, and the man smiled. His thought was almost clear to Obi-Wan.

"You thought I was a bounty-hunter or something?" the young man asked.

Qui-Gon nodded reluctantly.

"You just seemed so…skilled."

Obi-Wan wondered if it was a compliment at all, but he gave a wintry smile nevertheless.

"Yes, I know how to do explosives and such. Blowing things up is in the job description, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I should have guessed you wouldn't…"

"Nyah. I _was_ at the verge of becoming a bounty-hunter, actually, so you're not much mistaken. But it just wasn't… for me."

"No."

"I realized I could use what I'd learned in better ways than that."

"Tell me. From the beginning."

"Oh, yes. Report." Obi-Wan smiled forlornly. "You see… When the… _things_… on Melida/Daan got out of control, I contacted the Temple, as you probably know. They sent master Adi Galia…" Their eyes locked, both of them very much aware that it _hadn't been _ Qui-Gon who came. "It was for the better, I suppose," Obi-Wan added quickly. "She handled it masterfully. We… well, we sorted the things out as much as possible, together."

"She had told me how you conducted yourself. She also told me she asked you to come back with her."

"I couldn't." Obi-Wan rested his chin on his knees. "I had to stand by my decisions. I couldn't just… It was probably just pride, coming to think of it now, but I wanted to take the responsibility for my own actions, for once. With the consequences and everything. I had left the Path. I regretted it for a time, perhaps, but now I think it _was_ the right decision to take."

"Do you?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said firmly, and Qui-Gon just nodded. "Besides, there were still so many things to _do_ on Melida/Daan. Doing things… well, perhaps it can't help you get _over_ your grief, but it distracted me for a time. It's… it's a good feeling, in a way, knowing you are being useful.

"But, after the things started going more or less smoothly, I decided to leave. I couldn't stay there. Too many… Too many ghosts, I think. I couldn't bear it. So I ran away from them, basically, or tried. I left the planet…"

"And that's when we lost your trail," Qui-Gon said. "We… well, the Council tried to find you, check up on you. Because, you see…"

"I could be dangerous, as a strayed Force user?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I guessed as much. That's why I covered my trail so meticulously. Nield had taught me how to forge ID cards and whatnot, and I was very careful. Created a handful of handy identities, all that."

"And afterwards?"

"I traveled. I didn't have any money, so I did odd jobs, here and there. Dangerous stuff, mostly, but minor – the stuff that wasn't paid well, so no one but a desperate 14 year old would take the risk of trying to do them. The next two years are… hazy to me. But I learned a lot. I kept company with Jebediah A'Reli for a time, I guess you've heard of him."

"The gambler and the computer hacker?"

"Exactly. I learned a lot from him."

"He was arrested two years ago. He was a criminal, Obi-Wan."

"I know, and I know. But he wasn't a bad bloke nevertheless. And I didn't care much at the time, anyway. I had sunk pretty low."

"Oh, Obi-Wan. You used to be so…"

"Ethical? Idealistic? I remember, yes." His smile was twisted. "Not any more though, not that way. Back to the story. At that time I was more or less apprenticed to him – informally, obviously. I didn't care much about the gambling, but the hacking I considered useful. It was easy for me, too. I also improved my piloting skills considerably.

"Jeb and I parted our ways after somewhat more than a year – I was a pretty insufferable kid, at the time, I think. So… I ended up on Tatooine yet again. In the Mos Eisly Cantina. I frequented the place, actually."

"Mos Eisly Cantina? It's…"

"Horrible, yes. An ugly place. That's exactly why I went there, I suppose. I still did the odd jobs, but now I was older – fifteen, almost - and, well, quite resourceful, I suppose. I was decently paid, and I tried very much to be grown up, to save money, and to think what I was going to do with my life."

"Odd jobs?"

"Oh, you know the sort…"

"I can't say I do."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes slightly.

"Just… jobs, all right? Nothing openly criminal, but definitely shifty."

"I see."

"You see, I was… well, rebellious isn't quite the word. But I very much wanted to do everything that opposed my, well, my training."

Qui-Gon watched him sadly, but words were coming to Obi-Wan easier now. It was a relief of sorts to finally, well, _tell_ it all. Openly, honestly, to confront it. He wanted to show Qui-Gon he took his own decisions, and that he didn't regret anything. And yet… the truth was that he wasn't at all happy about those years of his life.

"You're silent, Obi-Wan."

"I'm thinking."

"What about?"

"Well, frankly… About the fact that I'm not proud of those years at all… and yet, they had shaped me into what I'm now, and I think it didn't turn out so bad."

Qui-Gon said nothing, and Obi-Wan winced inwardly. Of course. How could the Jedi say anything positive to a shifty adventurer who used to hang out with the worst of the Galactic scum?

"Not all the people there were bad, you know," he said defiantly.

"No. There is no place where all the people are bad."

But those were empty words, Obi-Wan felt.

"I met some decent guys there, although they weren't law-abiding either," he continued deliberately, as if to dig himself even deeper in. _Look at what I've become. Just look at me. I'm not going to conceal anything, you're bloody gonna hear it all._ "Some of them I'm still friends with, actually. I know how far I can trust them, you know. They have their own twisted code of honour, and with them you can at least know where you stand. Anyway. Me and a couple of guys were almost caught during one action, so we had to leave.

"We went for the Outer Rim, found a job as guards with a pioneering company. Protected the settlers, such. Fought quite a lot. I learned all the time. They established a mine, but the risk was very high. I had some practical knowledge of explosives already, but now I studied the theory too, and had much, much more practice.

"I was somewhat over sixteen when I got entangled into yet another civil war. It was ugly. I could have left, but, somehow… I didn't."

Qui-Gon was very silent for a time, and Obi-Wan waited. He could see there was a question his former Master was reluctant to ask.

"Was it because you grew to love… the fighting, Obi-Wan?"

"To love the killing, you mean?" Obi-Wan looked him square in the eyes. "No. Never. I couldn't make myself leave, though. I felt there was something very wrong at work there. I – well, I researched as much as I could – I was just a guard, after all – but with help from some people, I found the rat. The company – the very company I was _working for_ – had started the war. They produced weapons, and sold them to both sides. Stuff like that. I just… I thought I would burst! I don't remember being that angry ever in my life, Qui-Gon."

The Jedi nodded.

"So many people _died_, sith damn it! Friends of mine!" Obi-Wan continued, heating up.

"Easy, now. Did you expose the company?"

"No. I wanted to, but the system was completely corrupt. We were too far away from the Senate and stuff. Besides – who would have believed me? Me, the teenage scoundrel? I don't think so."

"Proofs are proofs, Obi-Wan."

"If legally obtained, yes. I found mine by slicing into their database. What was I supposed to do with that?"

"You could have called the Temple," said Qui-Gon quietly.

"And the Jedi would have done _what_ exactly? Without the official invitation?" he said bitterly. "Interfere? The Jedi? I don't _think_ so."

"Obi-Wan…"

"No, I was on my own. And I just couldn't let it go on that way. I had to do _something_."

"So what did you do?"

"Broke into the secret database. Destroyed the system. Took all the money they had made, too."

"You _took_ the money?"

"I transferred it to _charity_!"

"You didn't keep anything to yourself?"

"The blood money?" Obi-Wan frowned. "Are you _crazy_? People had _died_. I could never…"

"And how was that money different from what you had earned previously? On your 'actions'." Qui-Gon said sternly.

"I never _killed_ for it!"

Qui-Gon studied him.

"So, why do your deeds still torment you then?"

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked down. _I have to tell it all. _

"I blew up their base afterwards. It was completely unnecessary, just… revenge. A pure act of destruction." He paused. "It was awful. I had made evacuation calls beforehand, but not everyone made it out on time, apparently. And some people died. I… I can never forgive myself for that."

Qui-Gon was silent. _That's right_, Obi-Wan thought. _Look at me and see me for what I am now_._ All of it_.

"When I realized what I'd done – well, I had _known_ what I was doing, obviously, but I still… _woke up _ in a way, afterwards… Well, when I saw it all, I was completely lost. The Force had left me long ago…"

"The Force never leaves us."

"I had left _it_, if you like."

"What happened then?"

"I didn't know what to do with myself. I wanted to go and surrender to the justice, basically. But I realized it would be too easy. An easy way out, you might say, a way to just wash away my guilt… I wouldn't let myself do that. So, I… Well, basically, I had to find something to do, something… inherently _good_, I suppose. I was quick and resourceful and could keep a cool head. And _knew_ how to do so many things. So I decided to make myself… _useful_, at last."

"That was… a worthwhile decision."

"It was the only thing I could do. So, I found the job with the Rescue Squadron. I volunteered for the most dangerous missions, the hopeless ones. I sort of hoped I'd just 'die trying', I suppose."

"That would have been an easy way out too."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I didn't die, though. I succeeded in my 'hopeless' missions, most of the time. It's… The Force came back to me, in a way, then. Not always when I wanted it, but I could feel it guiding me, sort of. I started to meditate again. I started to rediscover my peace. It was… a good feeling."

"How old were you at the time?"

"Almost eighteen."

Qui-Gon's eyes were immensely sad.

"You were so… young."

"I don't feel young."

"You are barely twenty, Obi-Wan. Are you even aware how very young that is? Things… shouldn't have happened that way"

The Jedi Master pitied him, and Obi-Wan wanted that least of all.

"Things didn't _happen_ to me. I _did_ them, all right? I'm responsible for every time I screwed up, for every shit I got myself into. And I take that responsibility." Hi stiffened his jaw.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said softly. "I can see that." He paused. "So you worked for the Rescue Squadron for… two years?"

"I still do. I left my sergeant-at-arms in charge, but the place is waiting for me when I get back."

"_Your_ sergeant-at-arms?" Qui-Gon said sharply. He looked caught off guard.

"Um, yes. I advanced, sort of. I didn't want to at first, I didn't want to take the responsibility for anyone but myself, ever again. But afterwards I realized this was… an immature attitude. If you know what I mean. And they did their best to convince me to accept, too."

He saw a small smile creep over Qui-Gon's lips.

"So, how did they convince you?"

Obi-Wan returned the smile hesitantly.

"They pointed out I kept taking charge anyway, whenever the situation got perilous. And it was perilous 90 percent of the time."

"And the men followed you." That wasn't a question.

Obi-Wan nodded.

"So – I advanced. Now I have my own squadron, the special squadron – I trained them. I… they call us 'The Hopeless Squad'. We always volunteer for the most hazardous actions. A fine bunch of desperate men, we are, but… It's not a bad life. I'm used to the danger, sort of. Besides, I know I'm doing the right thing, at last. It can't be wrong to _rescue_ people."

"You _did_ always have the rescuing people thing."

Obi-Wan nodded, unsure what to make of this.

"So, that's it, basically." He paused, studied Qui-Gon's hollow cheeks, tired eyes. "What do you say we leave off, for now? You look _horribly_ spent, Qui-Gon. You're not ready for this kind of things yet. I'm sor…"

"No apologizing, remember? I'm… glad you told me these things, Obi-Wan."

"I'm glad you listened. I'll carry you to your bed now, shall I?"

"Just help me up, please. I can walk. But – there is still a large portion of the story to tell."

Obi-Wan nodded. Indeed, there was. The most difficult part, too. Up until now, he was able to avoid talking about Qui-Gon, and what had happened between them, and – worst of all – Obi-Wan's own emotions. He would have to reveal that too, though. Qui-Gon would want to know. He had the right to, too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **These things and people and universes and galaxies and weapons and...uhm, whatever; they don't belong to me.

**A/N: **They sit and they talk, as usually. Dialogue is probably the only thing I can write. Expect lots of angst and some extremely shameless fluf in this chapter. Consider yourself very, very warned. Oh, and some tears ;)

- - - - - - - -

It was the afternoon of the next day, and it was raining heavily. Qui-Gon sat silently and watched Obi-Wan go around with a hammer, nailing things down here and there, checking for any loose boards or holes in the walls. He had already cleaned the house from floor to roof (again), chopped all the available firewood, and fixed any piece of furniture that looked even remotely battered. Qui-Gon wondered what kind of job he would invent for himself next.

He could understand the boy – the man – though. The talking _had_ been hard, it had been hard on Qui-Gon too. None of them had mentioned anything since yesterday – they stepped tentatively around each other, talked to each other _extremely_ politely, when they couldn't avoid it ('You take the last egg.' 'No, you take it.' 'No, no, you just go ahead.' 'I'm not hungry any more, honest.' 'No, please, I insist' Such.) But pretending nothing had happened wasn't very productive, as it never was. The talk had helped, of course, but it had both brought them closer and made them more distant from each other. And the next part of the story was the most difficult one to tell, Qui-Gon figured.

The boy had grown… changed. He had come to be a fine man despite everything, Qui-Gon mused, but the feelings of immense pride and intense guilt clouded his thoughts. The things Obi-Wan had had to go through, the things he'd seen! No one should be exposed to such, especially at a such a tender age. _And I had pushed him right into the snake pit, and never did anything to right the wrong_. Obi-Wan would, of course, insist that his actions and decisions were his own. But he had been so young! _At the age of thirteen, I saw him practically as a man grown, and expected him to act as one. And only now do I see that he had been… just a child_! A child that needed care and guidance and love, not abandonment. Not only needed, but deserved! _He felt he had to stay and fight for a cause not his own. I used to tell myself he had chosen. I argued he would come and seek me out if he ever regretted his decision. I was bitter, of all things, that he never did._

_I thought he hated me._

_How unjust I have been!_

How could he go to him now and say 'I ruined your life, Obi-Wan. Sorry'? There were no words that could even begin to explain it.

_The things he had to go through because I was too bloody **proud** to seek him out!_

And yet… Obi-Wan would never admit his life _was_ ruined. He had taken the pieces and forced them back together. He had made a _man_ of himself, a fine, able, responsible man. And all that, after the horrors he had seen. A much older, wiser person could have become Dark, had they gone through such a hell. Obi-Wan didn't. Only once had he been on the verge, and he could never forgive himself for it now.

_And that's my fault, too._

But Obi-Wan hadn't Turned. He held his life firmly in his hands. And never, ever had he been tempted by the power he could have achieved only by applying all his skills and intelligence and resources. Blast, he hadn't even wanted to _advance_ in a _rescue squad_!

What a Jedi he could have been!

Obi-Wan stood at the door, obviously wanting to say something, but reluctant to interrupt the Jedi Master's thoughts.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"I'll just go out and…"

"Do what? Raise a barn and churn some butter? While it's raining?"

Obi-Wan breathed out slowly, than smiled and relaxed.

"You are right. I've been doing my best to avoid talking to you, inventing things I could do. It's…"

_So honest_, Qui-Gon thought. _Why is he so ready to admit to his own flaws?_

"I know it's difficult." Qui-Gon said slowly. "But I think we _need_ to do this, Obi-Wan."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed reluctantly. "Too many unsaid things, and it had gone on for too long. I hadn't known… I hadn't known I still _cared_, frankly." He crossed his arms on his chest. "I didn't know it all still hurt this much. But it does."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. It did. It sure as hell did. He, too, had thought that, if he ever met his former Padawan again, he would be able to nod politely, inquire after his health, and leave. But he hadn't wanted to meet him again, not really. He had feared what Obi-Wan might have become. But, whatever he had expected, he didn't expect such a forceful, painfully honest, kindhearted person with a face of a man and eyes of a boy. But, after all, that's what Obi-Wan had always been.

Obi-Wan popped down on the floor, facing Qui-Gon. He adopted the traditional Jedi position, seemingly without thought. _Is he trying to humor me?_, Qui-Gon wondered.

"Why don't you take a chair, Obi-Wan?" he asked mildly.

Look of defiance crossed the young man's face, but he regained the control over his features instantly.

"I always sit like this," he said quietly. "Just an old habit. I can take a chair, if you like."

_He assumes I **disapprove **of the way he sits? Because the Jedi sit so? Oh, Force help me and guide me, what can I say to him? Why does he always seem to be expecting some kind of **judgment** from me? I do anything but judge him. I never did. How can we keep misunderstanding each other so, in all things?_

Obi-Wan started to rise, but Qui-Gon stopped him with a gesture.

"No, no. You can sit any way you like, as far as I'm concerned, for Force's sake."

"I didn't mean to…" Obi-Wan began miserably, and trailed off.

Why did the hard, able man Qui-Gon had seen in the dungeons keep turning into this vulnerable knot of emotions as soon as Qui-Gon said a word? Qui-Gon suddenly longed to rush to him, to hold him, comfort him, if he could. But – did he have the right to? _I squandered that right long ago_. How would Obi-Wan react? Wouldn't accept it, most probably. He might get offended. He… Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a second. No, the time wasn't ripe for that yet, and he had no idea if it ever would be. _How can I make amends for all the wrong I have done_?

"Obi-Wan…" he began. "Anything I say seems to throw you off balance. I don't know how to conduct myself."

"Same here," Obi-Wan replied, and gave him a tentative smile. Qui-Gon couldn't help but be happy for any small smile he succeeded to extract from his former apprentice. "Only, you are more difficult to read, Qui-Gon. Well, I suppose we can't do anything about that now. I'll just continue the story, shall I? But, know what? I'd like to hear your own story. One day. When you feel up to it."

Qui-Gon nodded, and motioned the boy to proceed. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"You wanted to hear how I came to find about your captivity, and all. Well, to start from the beginning, I was on Alderaan at the time, and I heard some Jedi were coming to inspect something. Garen and Clee Rhara, to be more precise. Well, you know I used to be friends with Garen, and… Honestly, I didn't think I could tackle meeting up with him again, but I wanted at least to _see_ him, you know. So I mixed with the passers-by on the street and watched him. He noticed me almost at once. I had underestimated him, I guess. Well, I had had no idea how he would react, but he grinned like a madman and rushed to me, hugged me. We talked. It all went much better than I had imagined. Almost like the old days. He didn't know my story and all, though, and I didn't have the courage to tell him. He didn't know me at all, not really, but he acted like… like nothing was changed. He is too trusting, I guess."

"His trust wasn't misplaced, Obi-Wan."

His former Padawan shot him a grateful look.

"Maybe so. Anyway, I'm digressing. All in all, he was the one who told me about your disappearance. The Temple organized the search for you, obviously, but they found nothing in the end. Tahl and Bant seem to have been the most successful ones, but they finally lost your trail in Oriba Leeh System. There wasn't much hope left that you were alive, Garen had said.

"The news… hit me. Very violently. I… this is difficult, Qui-Gon. I can't quite explain it, either. I mean, I had left you, what, almost seven years before, because I wanted to help the young. Well, you know that. But it was _long_ time ago, and I had thought it all very much in the past. But when I heard the news...The mere possibility of you, lying somewhere, hurt or worse… It filled me with such dread that…" Obi-Wan did his best to shake it off. "Well, I pretty much jumped up and ran out of the cantina we were sitting in. Had to take a walk, clear my head. I don't know what I was feeling exactly – pretty much _everything_, I guess. But after some ten minutes I walked back in and found out all I could from Garen. About your last known whereabouts and such. And – _'You are going after him, aren't you, Obi?'_, he said, and I went '_Yes, I have to_._' 'Many have tried,' _Garen said, and I knew he meant something on the lines with 'if so many Jedi have failed, why would you do any better?'. But I told him it wasn't in question at all, and that I'd already decided. So he just nodded, and said he understood, but he hated to leave me with a false hope. But, you see, Qui-Gon, I don't think any hope is false, and I had learned that as long as the opposite hasn't been proved, there is _always_ hope."

"You are, after all, on the 'Hopeless Squad'." Qui-Gon smiled.

"Exactly. So I parted with Garen. That night I had a vision – well, a dream, I guess, but at the time I decided to take it as a sign, because it suited me."

"What kind of dream?"

"There was this room – very claustrophobic, very shiny. All made out of polished silvery metal. I couldn't see the source of light, but it was horribly bright – the reflections and all – and it hurt my eyes in the dream. I thought I'd lose my sight. And… you were there."

"Calaharr," Qui-Gon muttered. "The Force is with you, Obi-Wan."

"You mean a place like that exists?"

"I was held there for a time."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, calmed himself.

"Well, then. A vision it was. Anyway, at first I thought I'd rely on the dream, search for a place like that. But than I decided I needed to go about this rationally, analytically. A dream was no place to start. So I went back to Tatooine. To Mos Eisly. It's always a good place to start if you are searching for someone."

"You went back there?"

"It was… It wasn't easy. I needed some help, though. I may be good at hacking, but one man alone can do little, and there wasn't much time. So I hired a team – the worst Galactic scum and villainy, you might say." He grinned. "Some of them had binary brains, though; others are so experienced that they don't need them. We scanned the data meticulously, and it was slow, but I didn't see a better way."

"You mean you started the search by hacking into databases and searching them?" Qui-Gon said in disbelief.

"Not very ethical, is it? Well, I went about this my own way, I'm afraid."

"It's not what I meant! It just seems like an endless process, the sheer _enormity_ of the possibilities…"

"Well, that's why I formed my team, isn't it?"

"How did you know where to start at all?"

Obi-Wan grinned.

"I followed my intuition, of course."

Qui-Gon couldn't suppress the admiration that grew in his heart.

"But Tahl would have certainly searched…"

"She did," Obi-Wan cut him off. "But, however resourceful she is, and I know that she is, Jedi aren't trained for hacking, you know."

"Perhaps they should be," Qui-Gon said slowly. "Perhaps they should be."

"Anyway, it took me whole three months of constant work to find what I needed, and all that time the dread was nagging at me. You could have died in the meantime."

"But you never lost hope?"

"I couldn't afford to. So – I found the data I needed, repaired my ship, and was on my way. The journey was quite uneventful, thankfully. I finally got there and – well, the rest you know."

"Not really, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said mildly. He watched the young man, saw the determination shine in his eyes, and knew that perhaps no one else would be capable of doing what Obi-Wan had done. But _why_ did he? _What have I ever done to deserve him? _"Not really."

Obi-Wan inclined his head to one side.

"Is this really necessary?"

Qui-Gon's emotions rushed upwards, threatened to take over, but he, grabbed them firmly, then released them to the Force.

"Please," he said softly. "I need to know your heart, your thoughts. Please?"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly.

"I understand." He paused. "Look. During all those years, I had pretty much no idea what I felt regarding you and… and what had happened between us. Well – take Melida/Daan, I suppose. I regretted my decision – not for long, but I did. But I also felt very much lonely and – abandoned, I suppose, although it was very irrational. But I knew one thing – there was no turning back. I had to find my own way.

Qui-Gon started to say something, but the young man gestured him to be silent, and continued.

"I was bitter for a time – bitter, angry, I don't know… But I knew it was wrong to dwell on that. Those were petty emotions, and I… got over it, with time, I suppose. I tried very much not to think of you, or the Temple, or anything… I tried to pretend nothing of it ever happened. Not the best policy in the world, but that was the only thing I could do. I wouldn't allow myself to… _miss_ it, you know. I had to fend for myself and had to harden myself in order to survive."

Qui-Gon's heart wrenched, but he kept silent, hoping to hear just a trail of possible forgiveness in the words of his former Padawan. But he didn't have the right to expect that, did he?

"Basically," Obi-Wan continued, striving to keep his voice even, but not quite succeeding, "From time to time I indulged in fantasies of – well…" He averted his eyes, his lips twisting. "That you'd find me, come for me, take me away from it all. It's…" He still didn't look at Qui-Gon. "Just wild fantasies, of course. I knew I didn't have the right to even dream about it, after what I did, but I did nevertheless. From time to time. It's…"

"Oh, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon was unable to contain himself any longer. "You had every right to it! How can you think this, after all I did to you?"

"After all _you_ did to _me_?" Obi-Wan raised his eyes in disbelief. "_I_ was the one who broke your trust. You had given me your trust, and I just… cast it all away!" _He sounds like a disorientated child_, Qui-Gon thought. He reached out and took both Obi-Wan's hands in his own. They were limp.

"Obi-Wan," he said firmly. "If you want to find a guilty party for what had happened, it's _me_. Not _you_! I _abandoned_ you on a planet in the middle of a civil war; I _left_! Don't tell me you have been blaming _yourself_ all this time!"

Obi-Wan held onto his hands as if he was drowning.

"_No_!" he said forcefully. "Don't give me that crap, because it's plainly not _true_!" He looked down, and Qui-Gon sensed him reach out for the Force, searching for his calm. His own emotions choked Qui-Gon. He saw so much guilt, so much remorse in the eyes of his former Padawan. _Did you really think it was **you**?_

Obi-Wan raised his gaze, obviously calmed now, and met Qui-Gon's eyes squarely, boldly.

"Let's face the facts, Qui-Gon" he said firmly. "We were on that planet together. We were supposed to leave. I decided to stay. It was me who left you. Left the Path, everything. I disregarded everything you ever did for me. _I_ _drew my bloody lightsaber at you, Qui-Gon!_"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said softly. "And than you put it down. And _I_ turned around and left you, never to return to you. I was supposed to protect you, to keep you safe. I did what no Jedi Master should ever do to his Padawan. I abandoned you. I never even checked up on you. When you sent your plea for help, Yoda begged me to go myself. I refused."

Obi-Wan's eyes were filled with incredulity.

"What else could you have _done_?"

"I _could_ have thought of anyone but myself. I _could_ have thought of _you_. I was hurt, yes, very much so, but only because I never tried to understand your actions, Obi-Wan. I should have seen it as a boyish passion, not a… 'betrayal' of my precious self."

"But it _was_ a betrayal!"

"No, Obi-Wan. What _I _did was."

"Well, _I_ don't see it that way!"

They looked defiantly at each other for a moment, but then Obi-Wan sagged and let go of Qui-Gon's hands. _That's it_, Qui-Gon thought miserably. _He sees it finally. He has every right in the world not to ever want to see me again. I'd understand. But can I bear it?_ He felt his eyes fill with tears. _I'm so sorry, Padawan. If I could only make you see it!_

When Obi-Wan looked up again, Qui-Gon saw he was crying too. His eyes were unusually clear, though.

"Shall we conclude this, then, and say we betrayed each other?" the young man said plainly.

Qui-Gon felt a tear roll down his cheek, but in Obi-Wan's eyes he read no bitterness, just… a plea? A hope? Obi-Wan reached and touched his knee lightly.

Qui-Gon simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"You would forgive me, then?" Obi-Wan said with a sad smile. "For my part?"

"Oh, Obi-Wan! I had forgiven you long ago, if there was anything to forgive!"

The boy looked at him earnestly.

"I had forgiven you too," he echoed. "If there was anything to forgive. Long ago. I just… didn't know I did, I think."

Qui-Gon moved forward and removed a stray lock of hair from Obi-Wan's forehead.

"I should have sought you out long ago, Obi-Wan. I shouldn't have let this much time pass."

"_We_ shouldn't have," Obi-Wan agreed.

"It's just… I didn't think you'd want to see me, ever again. Or that was what I used to tell myself. "

Obi-Wan looked at him strangely.

"Did you think I had turned to the dark side, Qui-Gon?" he asked softly.

_How can I say yes, now? And yet, he doesn't deserve to be lied to._

"Sometimes," Qui-Gon admitted slowly. It hurt to say it aloud, it hurt to even think it, now. How could he have been so _blind_? Didn't he know Obi-Wan's heart? "Sometimes, I did. I feared it, Obi-Wan. And I asked myself that question very often. At midnight I would get a different answer than at noon."

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile.

"You have your answer now, I guess."

"Yes. Yes, I do! Oh, Obi-Wan, if only I had sought you out earlier…!"

"You yourself said I was impossible to track."

"_You_ have just showed me no one is impossible to track if you just _want_ it enough."

Obi-Wan's smile was wider now.

"Yeah, but don't forget it was _me_ who was covering the tracks this time."

_The young people's ability to heal is sometimes quite unbelievable_, Qui-Gon thought. _Or has he just buried his feelings deeper, so that I can't see them?. I know now he wants to avoid hurting me at any cost._

As if he had read his thought, Obi-Wan reached for Qui-Gon's hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

"Look, Qui-Gon… I don't want to dwell on could-have-been's and should-have-done's. No use in that, is there? It's in the past. We both made mistakes; we were both stubborn and proud and pretty much stupid, as I see it. No offence meant, of course."

"None taken, my boy. And you are, of course, right."

_You deserved so much more love than I had ever been able to show you, Padawan_, Qui-Gon thought sadly. _And yet… Perhaps it's not too late. Tahl would say it's never too late for love._

"So, perhaps… But, are you tired, Qui-Gon? Do you want to rest now?"

"No, not yet. There will be plenty of time for that."

They both fell silent.

"Will you continue your story, Obi-Wan? I think it needs to be told."

Obi-Wan nodded, gathering his thoughts.

"As I said," he began slowly, "I hadn't been sure what I felt about you at the time. But when I heard of your disappearance, it suddenly didn't matter how I felt and what I thought. The thought… the thought you might _die_ overpowered everything else. I'm not overly emotional or sensitive, Qui-Gon…" He trailed off for a moment.

_But you are! How can you not see it?_

"But _that_ thought. I… I. Couldn't. Bear it. So I started _doing_ things, taking action, as I always do when thinking gets too painful. It worked. I was so occupied with the job I had assigned myself, that I barely had time or energy for anything else. And yet, once I was in the ship, steering towards the Outer Rim and Ataria, there wasn't much to do. I knew you were alive, and I knew I could get you out. The rescuing itself wasn't all that difficult to plan. It was a classical 'diversion-break in–get out' action for a one-man-band like myself. It might have been almost a routine…"

"But?"

"There is always a 'but', isn't there? I fretted about the condition I might find you in. I also fretted… about your reaction. I thought I was probably the last person in the world you would want to see, even though I was coming to rescue you. I thought…" He trailed off.

"Obi-Wan! There is no person in the world I would have rather seen at that door!" _And I even **know** it now, for change._

Obi-Wan's eyes filled with tears, but he smiled.

"Thank you. Now I see I was horribly unfair to you."

"We had both been unfair. But, as you said, it is now in the past."

"Yes. Yes, it's so. So – I tried to suppress the thoughts, and yet they haunted me. I imagined every possible way it could go wrong. I thought what I would do if you refused to go with me, if you… Yes, it was very irrational, but I couldn't help it. So, when I got there, I buried my emotions – all of them – deep, deep down. I couldn't let them interfere with the mission. I had planned it all precisely – every second of it – and I couldn't afford to get distracted by anything. I did the routine work. Created the destruction, spiked the alarm system, broke in. A pure classic. But when I got to your door, I was… It was like a fog. I get the feeling I was horribly harsh to you back there – I'm really sorry. But there wasn't time! And if I had let even _one_ of my emotions surface, they would have all poured out at once. We'd have been lost. I couldn't have let that happen. So – I was the way I was. I probably seemed very hard, very cold. But it was all I could do not to burst into tears when I saw you."

_**My** Padawan, how could I have misjudged you so sorely?_

Qui-Gon stood up, moved to Obi-Wan's side and sat down beside him, putting an arm around the young man. Obi-Wan stiffened.

"You don't need to comfort me, I'm all right."

Qui-Gon's heart wrenched painfully.

"Perhaps I'm the one who needs the comfort," he said quietly. "Do you mind?"

Obi-Wan relaxed against him, then inclined his head to look at Qui-Gon's face.

"Of course not. I… thanks."

Qui-Gon ruffled his hair. _He seems so **young**! _

Obi-Wan put his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder and continued with his story, but now he seemed much more at peace.

"You see… I had to keep it all in. So I tried to view it all as a routine mission, refused to think, and – well, just did the job that was in front of me, I suppose. Got you out. Got you to the ship. Escaped.

"My previous plan was to – you know, pick you up, get you to Coruscant, drop you there - and leave. Without explanations or anything. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me, basically."

Qui-Gon was bewildered.

"What, after you'd saved my _life_?" _How much I must have hurt the boy in the past, if he thought I wouldn't want to **see** him!_ "Whatever you thought of me at the time, didn't you think I'd at least be _grateful_?"

"Well… yes. But grateful like you would be to any stranger that had saved you. I… I didn't think I could deal with that."

_Oh, Obi-Wan!_

But the boy continued before the Jedi could say anything.

"Anyway, that was the original plan. But I saw the condition you were in – I won't dwell on that. I had been prepared to find you hurt, but… You see, when you lay there in the cabin, and I checked on you with the Force, I saw you hang onto life by a mere thread. I was so afraid you might die, after I had finally found you again! I didn't think you could survive any more travel through the hyperspace, so I exited at once. So – I did the best I could. I've never been any good at healing, but I knew you needed to eat, for one. You didn't want to, you know. I made you. I had to."

"You were… very decisive about that." Qui-Gon smiled.

"But I _had_ to! I'm sor…"

"Obi-Wan. Can you _please_ skip over apologizing because you fed me when I was starved?"

"It does sound a bit off when you put it like that." Qui-Gon couldn't see his face, but he heard a grin in the young man's voice. "Anyway, I found this planet, tracked down a healer, and - pretty much collapsed on the spot."

They sat so for a time, leaning on each other, silent. Obi-Wan's head lay on the shoulder of his former Master, finally at peace. He had been wrong, of course. Perhaps he hadn't _wanted_ the comfort, but how he needed it! And how he needed Qui-Gon! He had needed him all this time, he could just never admit that to himself.

A small, cynical part of himself thought: _Do I, after all these years of fending for myself, still need someone to pat me on the head and say 'you did well'?_ But the other, wiser part of him responded: _Doesn't everyone?_

"I had missed you so," Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon didn't respond. Oh well. Obi-Wan couldn't expect the man to feel quite the same way, although he _had_ forgiven him. Their lives, their perceptions of the world were - different; Qui-Gon was a loner, had always been. Obi-Wan had earned his respect, ant that should be enough. He had seen that respect clearly in the Jedi's eyes. _I think I can love him without the need to be loved back_, Obi-Wan thought. For he loved the man. He had all the while, he just hadn't… realized.

"You know, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softy. "Tahl told me a story once. About a certain planet. Their technology is backwards, true, but only because they had invested all their creative energy into art. Making wonderful things out of glass. These things are beautiful and priceless, as you can imagine, and they take a great care of them. Some of the artifacts get broken from time to time, though. It cannot be avoided." The Jedi paused.

_I'm not **broken**_, Obi-Wan thought. _I know you never wanted any of those things to happen between us. I know you did your best, and so did I, and I think you know it. They happened, though, and there is no going back, as you say. Yet, I'm **not** broken, Qui-Gon._

"They don't throw the shards away, though," the Jedi continued. "They collect them carefully, and make new things out of them, beautiful things. And those new artifacts they value much, much more." He paused again. "Tahl told me this after I had… after you and I had left each other. I knew her intentions were nicest possible, but at the time I had thought it just a pretty story. I don't think so any more."

_He means our friendship_, Obi-Wan realized, _not me_. He could just nod.

"I'm so glad I found you again, Qui-Gon."

"I'm glad you did. I'm glad I can sit with you this way, my young… Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan heard the unsaid, though. _My young Padawan_.

_We can't have that back, ever. But there are other things._ He detached himself from Qui-Gon, to look into his former Master's face. He saw peace there. Respect. Even… fondness.

"Perhaps I wish things had turned out differently, sometimes" Obi-Wan said slowly. "But I'm glad for what I have."

"I… don't think I had been ready to be your Master at the time," Qui-Gon responded. "You deserved so much more."

_What?_

"Now, that's utter cra… That's not _true_, Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan was bewildered. _You were the best Master one could ever have!_

"You did, though, Obi-Wan, whatever you might think. You deserved more care, appreciation, _love_ than I could give you."

"You can deserve appreciation, perhaps," Obi-Wan replied before he could stop himself. "Or respect. But _love_ you can't deserve. You either get it or you don't. But there is no way to _deserve_ it. That much I've come to understand."

He saw his former Master's face wrench in pain, his eyes growing wider. Obi-Wan very much wanted to slap himself for speaking up.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon managed hoarsely. "I thought you… Don't you _know_…?" He gathered himself somewhat. "I _love_ you, Obi-Wan. I thought you, _blast_, I thought you _knew_ that much."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"You don't have to say that."

"Obi-Wan, _look_ at me. That's it." He paused for a moment. "I love you. Do you think I would lie about this? _I love you_, boy."

Obi-Wan just nodded numbly, feeling his eyes fill with tears.

"I love you too," he managed. "But you already know that."

He hugged Qui-Gon then, to hide his tears in the man's shoulder. Qui-Gon held him tightly.

"Oh, Obi-Wan…" the man said softly. "I never said as much, have I? But you were such a _smart_ kid. I thought you _knew_."

Obi-Wan just shook his head into Qui-Gon's shoulder, and clutched onto him.

"My boy," Qui-Gon whispered, stroking him gently on the hair.

Obi-Wan detached himself from his former Master after a time.

"Thanks," he said earnestly, looking him in the eyes.

Qui-Gon touched him on the cheek.

"Don't." the Jedi said softly. "Some things you've said… I get the feeling you have a completely warped image of yourself, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan was a bit startled at this sudden change of topic.

"Warped? I thing I know my strengths and weaknesses pretty well. I know exactly what I can or cannot do."

"It's not about what you can _do_. It's about your perception of _yourself_."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Qui-Gon. I am what I can do, for one. And I think I know exactly what I am."

"What, then, do you think you are?"

Obi-Wan frowned. It was difficult to sum oneself up in a bare sentence.

"Well," he said hesitantly, "I've done some bad things in my life. But I'm not bad. I have some good traits too. And I have my ethical code." He shrugged. "But I'm a scoundrel, basically."

He strived to interpret somehow the look in his former Master's eyes, but he couldn't.

"Perhaps you are," Qui-Gon said softly. "A scoundrel… with a heart of a true Jedi."

Qui-Gon watched the emotions fly over the face of his former Padawan, as the boy stared at him, not speaking. _Oh, come on, Obi-Wan! How can you think yourself so… unworthy? Don't you really realize what a precious person you still are, despite the life you've had? Even more, now!_

But Obi-Wan had always thought he was not good enough. When his former Padawan was a child, Qui-Gon thought his eagerness to please quite charming, and interpreted it as boyish ambition. Now he saw the truth. But hadn't the young man ever stopped to wonder how anyone _else _would have reacted in _any_ of the situations he'd faced? How many would have stayed so sincere and warm and brave? So true to themselves? Hadn't he ever stopped to wonder why all those men on his squad – hard, tough, experienced man, each one probably years older than Obi-Wan himself – followed him so willingly?

_Oh, Padawan…_

_You are so thoroughly aware of all your faults, and yet you are so stubborn in failing to see your own worth._

"Look, Qui-Gon," the young man addressed him calmly, having gathered himself. "I know you are trying to be kind to me, but you really shouldn't…"

A look from Qui-Gon stopped in mid-sentence.

"Padawan," the Jedi said sternly.

Obi-Wan sent him a bewildered look.

_Uh-oh. A misstep. Best to ignore it for now._

"When have I ever lied to you, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan was silent.

"Answer me."

"Never. You never did."

"Why do you think I'd do it now?"

"But…"

"Answer."

"I don't think you are lying to me."

"What then? Obi-Wan?"

The young man took a deep breath, reached for the Force, steadied himself.

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, Qui-Gon, but I really think you are jumping to conclusions this time. You don't know me, not really. We've talked a lot in these two days, sure, but do you really think that's enough? To form a judgment about someone? An unbiased judgment?"

_What had I done to the boy to cause this kind of insecurity in the man?_

"I'm not here to judge you, Obi-Wan," he said mildly. "_No one_ has the right to. But perhaps I need to point out some things to you, things about yourself you obviously don't see."

"And what makes you think you know more about myself than I do?" Obi-Wan asked softly, but Qui-Gon could tell he was restraining himself.

"You are forgetting, Obi-Wan, that I do not use my _eyes_ only to see. The Force tells us more about people than they themselves know, even."

"Right. So how comes…" Obi-Wan stopped himself, obviously, but Qui-Gon had guessed his thought.

"It's true I couldn't read you clearly before. My own emotions clouded my sight, perhaps, as did the illness. But the things that should have been said long time ago are finally said now. I am at peace with myself, like I haven't been for years. As, I sense, are you. When I first saw you after so many years, I sensed your living Force – it was dismayed, as were you, although you didn't look it. I could feel there was a lot of pent up emotion, but I could only guess about its nature. But now, Obi-Wan…" The Jedi paused. "Now I can see your heart."

The defiance had leaked out of the young man's face as the Jedi spoke. Now he just sat there patiently, as if waiting for the verdict.

_Oh, Obi-Wan!_

"And what I see is that it's pure, warm, loving. Sincere. You have become a strong, tough, efficient man, Obi-Wan, that's true. But you are also just, compassionate, and _very_ kindhearted. You have stayed so, despite all the horrors you have been through. And I can't begin to tell you how proud you have made me.

"As for your rescue of me – _no_, Obi-Wan, don't say anything. I want to tell you that _no_, it wasn't a common thing to do, and _no_, you didn't just do your duty, and _no_, not everyone would have done the same. That's just it. It was an exceptional thing to do.

"Keep silent, Obi-Wan, I'm not finished. What I also want to point out is the completely inexplicable amount of… _innocence_ you have preserved, despite all the darkness you've been through. No, don't deny it. I'm aware that you probably have a cynical thought here and there, that you consider yourself a hard-core realist, and that you can get very angry. It's got nothing to do with the innocence at your core. _That_ you have retained. And for that, you have my admiration."

Obi-Wan just stared at him.

"Oh, _hell_," the boy whispered, dumbfounded. "You really _mean _all that, don't you?"

**A/N**: It was my shameless ode to Obi-Wan and his immense greatness, so there :) Couldn't resist.

This is _almost_ the end. There is one short chapter to go, but I felt it was better to upload it at once than keep you waiting, hoping for another long, fluffy chapter – and then get only epilogue. Wouldn't be really fair, would it now?

Oh, BTW, if someone's interested, I've passed that exam (the one I didn't revise for enough because I had to write JA fanfiction, shame on me). So – when you are out there one day and have to revise like hell, just remember the recipe: fanfiction solves it all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Belongs to George&co. (I hate writing these disclaimers. I should form a decent one and paste it at the beginning of every chapter, but I'm too lazy)

**A/N**: I bet you've forgotten about Roan. I haven't :p Anyway, this is the last chapter, or, so to say, something between a chapter and an epilogue. Enjoy :)

Roan the Healer came back early the next day, before either of the men was even awake. When they got up, she watched them, took everything in – the thoroughly cleaned and fixed house, their behaviour towards each other, everything - and smiled knowingly.

"I find your… _'acquaintance'_ to be in a much better condition than anyone could have hoped in such a short time," she told Obi-Wan, while Qui-Gon was taking a shower outside.

"He's my friend," Obi-Wan said softly. She arched an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise acknowledge what he said.

"The speed of his recovery seems almost… miraculous," she continued, unperturbed. "I wonder why I'm not surprised."

Obi-Wan wondered how much she actually knew about the ways of the Force, but didn't comment.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"How did what go?"

"The job you had to do."

"Oh. I find it went… according to the plan."

- - - - - -

Qui-Gon was indeed much better. He was still week, of course, but Roan confirmed he could now bear a hyperspace travel without any serious consequences to his health. So – it was time to go, Obi-Wan supposed. The state he was in when he had arrived on this planet, he would never have thought he would be so reluctant to leave it. And yet… the best thing that had happened to him in Force knew how many years – had happened right here. But they needed to reach Coruscant as soon as possible. So many people thought Qui-Gon dead. It wouldn't be right to keep them waiting any longer.

- - - - - - - - -

He hugged Roan goodbye.

"It was good to have you here, young Obi-Wan," she said. "I don't remember ever having my house so clean and orderly. I would have asked you to stay with me for a time – you're handy to have around, even though you can't cook to save your life – but I suppose you have a bunch of very important things to do. Young people are always so busy."

"I'd have liked to stay," he said, smiling. "I can't, though. I have a job waiting."

"Guessed as much," she said dryly. "So – if you ever happen to stumble into this part of the Galaxy again, be sure to visit."

"Of course I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I don't believe a word you're saying, but never mind."

Then she hugged him again.

"Thank you very much, Roan," Qui-Gon said warmly. "Here I have healed much more than I had ever hoped to. How can I ever thank you enough? I was honored to be your patient."

"Muck," Roan cut him off. "That's what healers are for. Don't over-exert yourself as soon as you're out of my sight, by the way. And… be safe, both of you."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan masterfully steered the ship through the Coruscant atmosphere.

_He's good_, Qui-Gon mused fondly. _As good as Garen, at least. With time he might surpass even Clee Rhara_.

The trip home had been short and uneventful. Now it was at its end, and Qui-Gon couldn't help but feel mildly sad. He had his boy back, but now they were going to part their ways again. Qui-Gon would return to the Temple to continue his recovery. Obi-Wan would go back to his squadron, wherever they were now. _I'll miss him so_. But it was just as it should be.

But, despite himself, Qui-Gon had to wonder what _could have been_. Obi-Wan, with his keen intelligence, cool head, and all his abilities, could have been _so_ much more. His job of a rescuer was noble, of course, and the boy was proud of it. But what a Jedi he could have made!

_If only he hadn't been so stubborn at thirteen; if only I hadn't been so blazingly blind at thirty-four._

_What is Galaxy losing because of our stubbornness and pride…?_

But it was too late for such thoughts now. Or _was_ it?

_Tahl would say it's never too late_.

_How would the Council react if I suggested we took Obi-Wan back now?_,he wondered. _No, scratch that. How would **Obi-Wan**__react?_

Qui-Gon didn't quite dare ask him that. They were still somehow tentative around each other, still careful. It was a good beginning, but they had much rebuilding to do yet.

'_I am no material for a Jedi, Qui-Gon' _he remembered the young man's words all too clearly. _'Never have been, I think. I may be strong in the Force – and some other things – but that's just not enough. The Path's not for me. 'There is no passion, there is serenity', the Jedi Code says. And can't you see that passion is exactly what's holding me together?'_

But serenity could be achieved, with time. And you didn't have to lose your passion to do it, not really.

_One step at a time_, Qui-Gon told himself. And then: _Exactly. So let's make the first hesitant step._

He smiled for himself.

"I'll miss this," he said quietly.

The young man turned from his controls to look at him.

"I know. Me too."

"Why don't you come to the Temple with me, Obi-Wan? For a time." He paused. "What do you say?"

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, but then he shook his head.

"No, I don't think… Thank you, but no. I don't think that's a good idea at all. And I have a job to get back to. We'll be in contact often, though. I promise."

"Your job can wait for a little while longer, although I'm sure they'll be glad to get you back. What I need you to do, however, can't wait."

"Do?"

"I need your help."

"Oh, come on, Qui-Gon, you don't need to humour me…"

Qui-Gon shot him a stern look.

"I," the Jedi said slowly, "intend to take the case of my captivity at Ataria upon myself. Not out of revenge, but because I cannot allow what happened to me to happen to anyone else."

"Of course," the boy nodded. "But what could I possibly…?"

"I could use a good database-researcher, Obi-Wan."

He saw his former Padawan frown for a moment, but then a slow grin started spreading over his face.

"Even a hacker, Qui-Gon?"

"_Especially_ a hacker."

THE END

**A/N: **There you go, an open, although nice and fluffy, ending... I'm perfectly aware I never told you how Qui-Gon got captured. I had planned to, but I never found a right place to do it, not in this story. Don't kill me :) The fact is, I'm planning a sequel. I found that I have more of the story to tell. I already have some scenes written, as a matter of fact :)

The problem is, I always have a good time writing dialogues, but I suck when it comes to plots, basically, an that's a fact. I need to think of a plot. I know I'll be having hard time doing that.

What's worse... Well, to make a long story short, when I began to write this, I had read only the first nine volumes of JA (and Deceptions). I had troubles putting my paws on Shattered Peace. So, in a fit of despair, I began to write this fanfic. During the writing, I began to plan a sequel. But now that I'm reading no. 12 in the series, The Evil Experiment, I see 'my' plot has been done. I wanted some psychos from Ataria who wanted to research the Force, so they captured Qui-Gon – and now our two favourite characters try to find who that was. But since we've seen it in The Evil Experiment – I suppose I'll have to think of something else. deep sigh Oh, well. I will, I promise. Just give me some time :) (If you have a brilliant idea that you don't want to write yourself, and that would fit into my universe, you can drop me a mail at ).

And, finally, thank you for all those wonderful reviews and the support. You're the best :D


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